I have a mother of a headache right now. And I can't sleep. Even though I'm really tired.

I've touched a sting ray before. Once. In Monterrey Bay, California, over Spring Break. I've always kind of wondered what it would be like to go scuba-diving. I don't think my ears would like it, though.

You ever look at your life, look at the situation you're in and just realize you're bothering yourself with it so completely unnecessarily? And all the things you used to care about just fade away and don't matter anymore. Your priorities just...change. And for once, you can be completely selfish and selfless at the same time. I don't think doing what's best for yourself always means you're being selfish. I think sometimes, not doing what you really need to do because you are afraid of what will happen is selfish.

I really wanted to make an entry for some reason, but I don't have anything to say.

Even though I am super annoyed that they didn't have John Williams do the music for the fourth Harry Potter movie, I can't get this "Magic Works" song out of my head. I kind of really like it. A lot.

This break has been pretty interesting thus far. Thanksgiving dinner was splendid, of course. We had a lot of desserts and then the traditional dishes.

My sisters were here...we started talking about random things, like why Christiane had her status listed as single when she's been in a relationship for over a year. It was pretty funny, actually.
I also talked to Ilse about relationship torment...I can't seem to escape trying to pick up the debris after bad relationships. But it's all right. I will do anything to be there for the people I care about. And it kind of makes me grateful I'm single. Sometimes.

I got to see Becky today, who I haven't seen in over two years. I also met her boyfriend. He seems like a decent person. We're planning to go to the mall tomorrow-for no apparent reason. She's getting married October 10, 2008, she said. Spending time with my family and my old friends is a comfort. It makes me wonder about alternate realities. You can't take anything back, but life would be so different if they had just stayed here after sophomore year.

Why is it you feel so weak to let someone know that they've hurt you? You don't want them to see that you've been upset by it. But are you acting like nothing bothered you to make them feel better or is it really to make them feel worse? If you feel like they never cared about you, if you feel like you were used and then just thrown away, why would you want to do that same thing, which you hate so much? You want to make them feel like you feel. But it only pushes things further, and you only get hurt even more. Some may think it is weak to let things get to you, but even when you act like something doesn't, it does. You can avoid facing that fact, and let your avoidance become your handicap, or you can accept that you are bothered by it, realize you are only temporarily in a low spot, and even if it takes you a long while, know you will not always be so unhappy. You can be unhappy, but still stick up for yourself. Just because you are vulnerable does not mean you are not strong.

My family thinks I am the most independent, self-sufficient person. They have faith that I can always do my own thing, and I can always make it on my own. I have felt for a while that I am the complete opposite. I have thought that I am completely dependent on others, that I need other people to make my way. It's not true. If I can leave all my friends behind, if I can go somewhere I've never been before, without a single familiar face, I must be at least a little bit independent. I am not instinctively independent, but I can force myself to be. I can push myself to make the right decisions, even when they are difficult, even when they mean leaving everything behind. You can think that I am clingy, you can say that I am weak; I will fight my hardest for things to stay the same, but I know my limit, and I will not let myself be broken just because I am afraid things will be too hard. Because that is the weakest person I could possibly be.

Taking the time to post. About what, I'm really not sure. I just got out of the shower and my hands are still wrinkly. I have been busying myself with plenty of homework lately. I've been stressed about talking to my advisor for some time now. It's not that I don't want to talk about my degree/schedule or what have you, but I don't like calling up to make the appointment. Yeah. I got nothing out of it, but at least I can tell my parents I actually talked to her. So yay as they say.

I often wonder if life will just be a continuous cycle of finding close friends and then losing them. I know how to cope. I've done it plenty of times before, making new friends to eat lunch with, to go to movies with, to spend time with. But not to talk to. You can spend a year and a half with the same group of people and still never know them. I guess I'm afraid of losing my real friends yet again and making more acquaintances that I just happen to see everyday. Alas, such is life. Eventually, you have to move away from home. You have to get your own place and make your own small world. So after college, will I move away and fill my life with acquaintances and work to keep busy?

I was talking to a friend from high school today. She said he was using her. But don't people use each other instinctively? Of course. It's the kind of relationship that matters. Parasitic or mutual? People use each other for comfort, for company, for a minutiae of things. Isn't that the nature of life? I don't mind so much being used. At least it means I'm useful.

I think I may have become a bit callous. Douglas still hasn't forgiven me; I just said I don't care. I said that I don't see the point of worrying about someone who can't forgive a grudge after two years. My sides are fighting. I say these things and I think that I mean them. But then I tell myself, "that is not you." So maybe I'm just not who I have always been.

Isn't there usually a reason for someone to become callous?

Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you.

I was supposed to go visit my sisters today, one last time before I leave for Nebraska. I didn't end up getting out there because I needed to pack and I don't really have money for gas and the likes. And maybe I didn't want to get there and have it be just like every other day. Because I am sick of life's biggest moments being such big disappointments. You're supposed to cry and hug and feel a sense of some kind of ending. But it's just another goodbye, and the time between visits is just extended. Why do they hype it up so much? It's bound to be less than you expected. And so maybe I'll stay single forever, afraid that a relationship will only be another big disappointment. I should commit to nunnery right here and now; that way, the pressure is taken off completely.

I'm going to try my very best to cry when my parents leave me behind at the dorm on Tuesday. Maybe that will make a difference.


Today was my last day at work. I made enough to pay for my plane ticket, my computer, a case for my computer, and the furniture I will need to purchase for my room. Just enough, actually. I've applied for a few jobs on campus, and I will apply for a few more when I get back to Lincoln. I plan to be very busy this semester, no time to let my idle mind wonder too far. Work, school, clubs, and friends.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like growing up Amish. The Amish have it all right. They know how to cook, they work together to build barns, they can make quilts. Uh...huh.

Well, I've gotten bored enough to change my livejournal layout...that's pretty damn bored. It's kind of ugly, but it started giving me a headache, so I gave up. It's good enough for now.
Random thought: Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer. Because how can you hate someone you don't know? And how can you really hate someone you do? I'm not sure whether to think you're strong or you're weak to hate someone/something you truly know. But I sure as hell don't think you're strong to hate something you don't even understand. I sigh at the ignorance of anyone that is so violently opposed to any concept.
That doesn't make much sense, I know.

Cigarettte - Ben Folds Five

Packing up my stuff and getting ready to move reminds me just how much crap I actually have. It's always more than I thought. It eventually becomes part of my surroundings. Whilst someone new may walk into my room and see pieces of my personality, something you could conceivably take away from the room for whatever reason, or even possibly dispose of, I see only a mass of material that makes up the whole of my room. And if I were to remove one piece, it would detract from the existing feeling of the room. It would be like trying to remove a spatula from a bowl of cake batter without any of the cake batter attaching itself to the spatula. Not possible.

After I painted my room green, I got rid of a bunch of things and put a bunch of things into storage. The walls of my room were bare, and the contents were rather sparse. I liked the change in atmosphere. Simple. Clean. My mother thought it was depressing. She found old pictures I had drawn from my art classes back in elementary school and posted these on the wall. She took me shopping to find art to put on my wall. When I was in Iowa, she bought me my Rockwell picture. Each girl in my family has her own personal Rockwell picture. I chose mine on a whim. I think it might change. The walls were once again ornamented. Now, it is my theory that having these walls decorated drew forth an urge in me to fill my room to match. For 'twas after this that my room once again started gathering its own random knickknacks and the such, none of these so neatly arranged as those on the walls. Yes, in my case, ornamented walls --> --> dirty room.

I used to dream about having an apartment that was so simple. Many might call it cold and sterile. But I would find it comforting. I'm too lazy to clean and dust every weekend like you're supposed to.


I am sorry. I have no idea what I was thinking writing this. :/ Oh well.

I can't believe actually having my homework done for my classes can elicit such joy from me. I go for the cheap thrills, apparently.


In the past few weeks I have realized something.

My nose is huge. I mean, when did that happen? Damn.
See?

I think it might have grown some in the past year or so...
It is said that your nose and your ears never stop growing...
So if it's already this big, what will it look like when I'm 60?



The Boxer - Simon and Garfunkel

I tell people about my past to make it more real. To keep it forever alive. I tell them like it's as potent a human instinct as reproduction. My past is an oral tradition; I have been told and now I pass it along, my life as distant an experience as having been told a story tale. It's not so hard, now, to understand my confusion. It's not so strange that I don't understand the person I've become. As if I woke up without my memories, I stumble aimlessly through life; I love those who must have been close to me in the past, and I wonder if they've always been such distant strangers to me. If your past is what makes you the person you are, and if my past is less than a bundle of abstract memories to me, it's not so difficult a concept to grasp.

There is a whole host of lonely journal-writers just waiting for someone important to come along and care. I know this, and I don't even ask anymore if anyone else understands me. I only ask why we're still stuck in this situation. I've come to the conclusion that we only isolate ourselves. I invite you in, but I don't promise hospitality. I invite you in, but I don't ever leave my own home.

Whiskey Crowd - Benjamin Allen Band

So I dyed my hair red.

At times like these, when it's surely too late to expect rational people to be up, I'd like to know someone on the other side of the world. Someone I can just call up on my cell phone and talk to about absolutely nothing at all. Rack up that phone bill. Sorry Mom and Dad, but it's for my sanity! Maybe they'd understand.

One day, I'll wake up and organize my life. And I'll find time to get out the ironing board that I don't currently have and take the clean sheets out of the laundry basket and iron them. Shirts are for amateurs. I'm hardcore. I could see myself falling into that habit; a helpless, hopeless ironing addict. Finding the fastest, most efficient ways to smooth out all the wrinkles. Something I finally have control over. Something finally so fully and completely visible, from start to end.

People like me don't strive. I don't move forward because I don't like that I can't be perfect at something. I get stuck with this idea of how something should be and I won't move forward if I can't make it turn out that way. And so, I find more and more lately that my true joy is in the menial things. I think to myself as I write this, is that so unwise? Because if it makes you happy, what else matters? I've never considered myself a hedonist, but maybe I am. And maybe they are not menial. Just because something is simple does not mean it is meaningless. It's like impulse...Impulse is a matter of simplicity. There is no planning, it's completely spontaneous. But at the same time, what is impulse has surely been considered before; the idle mind has at one point, or several, thought it over. In truth, perhaps impulse is only the lack of planning a certain time or place to do a certain thing. Simplicity is the same. Pointedly, simplicity is the result of continued contemplation and actions to eliminate all that is meaningless in your life. So to me, simple=meaningful. And in the end all I want is happiness, fulfillment, meaning. And each of these somehow helps to achieve the others. The three derived virtues: happiness, fulfillment, meaning. The three God-given virtues: faith, hope, love. Is there any significant correlation?

Do you ever think about how you want your future house to be? The one you're going to build from scratch and pay off for the rest of your natural life? The place you've decided to settle down in for the rest of your life, so why not live out your dream? I think about it. I think about all the things I want in my house. I want a window seat, and I want a big backyard with lots of trees, so green. I want secret passages in my house, and a bathtub/shower where the water comes out from the ceiling. I want a wide open expanse, lots of space, lots of open air. And I want big doors, big ones that are old and surprisingly easy to open. I want big windows that look out on a paradise of greens and various other brilliant colors. And skylights, too. I want a myriad of skylights. And maybe my house will be bare, but everything in it will have meaning. I only want meaningful things, no fillers. I'd like a big kitchen with marble counters so I don't need a damned cutting board, and sinks with no lips because those things make it hard to clean. And I'll have a big piano, too. I will play it; it won't just collect dust. The large living room with my piano will have perfect acoustics. And the basement and attic in my house won't be for storage in the slightest. Because honestly, once I put something in storage, I'm likely never going to look back. That's just not me. And the walls of the house will be painted all kinds of elegant and beautiful. It would be timeless. And maybe a library, too. Yes, I'd like a library. Maybe shelves in the living room with the grand piano. No intercom system. My parents tried it, and it just doesn't work. Except maybe for playing music. But that's it. We'll just have to yell. And why not? You have a voice, use it.

I need to stop watching HGTV.

This Years Love - David Gray

I am rather bored. It's 1 AM. And the thought of going to sleep is inconceivable. Maybe I should get back on a regular sleep schedule again. Then I could sleep a little, live a little all week long; not live a lot during the week and sleep away my weekends. I knew a girl in high school. Lindsey. She was really nice. She was a klepto. She was also a sleepaholic. The very opposite of hynophobia. Yes, I just wanted to say "hypnophobia." Maybe she wanted to die. Or just liked the idea of death. Or maybe I'm shitting myself again.

I am happy because I finally finished my Harry Potter scarf. It's exciting. I should take pictures of it. Oh well.

Why are my entries always so freaking random?

Tomorrow is the choir concert and it's likely going to suck. We are singing with the concert band. Except you can't hear us because the band is like 10 1/2 times louder than us. Sitting in the auditorium listening to the band play, I really miss playing. I have my music here and so many opportunities, but I keep putting it off. When I was home, I actually played the piano again. The tones never sound so sweet as when someone else is playing the chords.

I have recently realized my fondness for working with my hands. Maybe I was meant for a simple life, and I should just embrace that now. Learning doesn't really make me happy, in an odd sort of way. It interests me to death. I love to learn, study, think, philosophize, bull shit. But it doesn't make me happy in the least. It only makes me strive for more. Never satisfied. But if I just ignore it, I can get by. That sounds pretty stupid. You know those people who make you smart? I need to know more of them. I know too many stupid people. Or too many of the smart ass smart ones.

Why is it that so many people these days are just waiting for you to fail, thinking happily to themselves of that moment when you will trip up? It's the complete opposite of what your parents used to tell you growing up. Negative reinforcement of sorts. That's probably the wrong psychological word. In fact, I specifically remember learning about negative reinforcement and about how I was all wrong about it. But it fits for me, and I am lazy. So there. They tell me, you'll mess up sooner or later. You won't follow through. And through this, I just grow stronger in my resolve. Because I am so driven to prove them wrong. Which is good, I suppose. Yay for adversity. But why? Is it because they are so unhappy with their own lives? Because they want you to be as miserable as they are? Because they are bitter and/or angry and want to stick it to someone? Misery does love company. True.

Which brings me to my next point. Misery is everywhere. Misery is a common-day occurrence. Misery is non-chalantly taking over lives everywhere. And people are just coming to accept it. And "ok" naturally follows acceptance. Resigned acceptance. Defeat. Then, actions are taken to deal with it. And numbness naturally follows. Such an easy response. No pain. No...nothing. I don't really mind. And yet I mind so terribly. I was going to try really hard not to use any contradictions this time around. Sorry.

He who knows not and knows not he knows not, he is a fool. Shun him.
He who knows not and knows he knows not, he is simple. Teach him.
He who knows and knows not he knows, he is asleep. Awaken him.
He who knows and knows that he knows, he is wise. Follow him.

I don't want to be the fool.

Saturday Morning - Eels